The Rolodex
by BiblioBabe
Summary: Sturgis and Harm need some phone numbers from Mac.


**The Rolodex**

**_A FanFic by BiblioBabe_**

****

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, would I be dreading my visit to financial aid tomorrow? I think not! poof I just disappeared … yeah … I just got out of my philosophy class. (I think, therefore I am … nevermind.) Don't mind the occasional odd humour: I'm harmless (no pun intended. Okay, I lied. Pun intended). Feedback is good: flames are not technically feedback.**

**Author's Note: Sometime when Mac and Harm are on speaking terms, but after Sturgis got to JAG … did that ever happen? Let's say it did, and that's when this is taking place. I don't know anything about florists in the greater D.C. area, nor do I know anything about the Russian mafia, so please accept the workings of my own disturbed mind.**

**1430 Local**

**JAG Headquarters**

Sturgis wandered into Harm's office, looking perplexed and carrying a greater DC area phonebook. "Hey, buddy," Sturgis said, sounding bewildered. "Can you recommend the name of a good florist?"

Harm looked up. "I usually pick the one closest to me, and they're pretty good."

"But I want something special, not something that any idiot could buy," Sturgis replied.

Harm looked at his friend, feigning hurt. "Hey!" Confused, Sturgis was about to ask him what was wrong until he figured out what he had said. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically and waited for a more helpful answer. "Well, Sturge, Bud buys flowers for Harriet, and she's always happy with them; ask about his florist."

"I would have been there first, but he is in court helping Mac beat the pants off a civilian lawyer who's so wet behind the ears, they're considering making the space behind his ears a Great Lakes wanna-be, sort of a sister lake to Champlain," Sturgis replied.

Harm shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, I'm going to assume that's some sort of Midwestern humour and let it go. I think Mac has the name of Bud's florist in her office." He stood up and motioned for Sturgis to follow.

The two men entered Mac's office, and Harm sat down at her desk chair. Sturgis reached for the rolodex sitting on Mac's desk and opened it. Harm shook his head and asked "Sturgis, why in heaven's name would the number for the florist be in there?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because it's a rolodex, Harm?" Sturgis questioned sarcastically.

Harm reached for the box. "No, see, it's labeled 'Col. MacKenzie.' We need this one," he said as he set it down, leaned over, and opened Mac's bottom right drawer, retrieving a similar box with a label reading simply 'Mac.' "By the way, Sturgis, didn't you ever send flowers to Bobbi?"

Sturgis flushed. "I did, but the florist, um, was a front for the Russian mafia, and they got closed down right after the Congresswoman and I broke up. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop and the CIA to investigate me for using a mafia business to send flowers to a Representative."

Harm looked up in surprise. "You don't mean Natalia's on K Street, do you?"

"Yeah, that's the place," Sturgis nodded.

"Damn!" said Harm, flipping to the N's and removing the card between the 'nails—Harriet' and 'Navajo—history' cards. Tearing it in half, he threw it in the wastebasket.

"Trying to get a charge of destruction of private property to go along with destruction of public property on your resumé, Harm?" Mac asked from the doorway.

Harm looked up and smiled. "No, Mac. Commander Turner has just informed me that Natalia's was busted."

Sturgis cocked an eyebrow. "Destruction of public property? Wha'd ya do, Harm, crash a government car?"

"You mean all this time here and you haven't heard, Sturgis?" Mac giggled, moving to sit in the visitor's chair next to the handsome African-American former submariner. Before Harm could protest, she said "Harm shot a semi-automatic into the ceiling of Admiral Morris's courtroom. He had to go before appropriations that year and explain why the building maintenance and upkeep bill was so high, and has been stuck with it ever since."

At this piece of information, Sturgis shook his head and sighed. "Just find the number, please, Harm."

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Mac asked.

Harm absently nodded in Sturgis's direction. "He wants to send flowers, and he wanted to know who was good. I told him I'd look up the name of Bud's florist … and why didn't I hear you mention that when I fired that weapon, you ducked?"

"Because I took cover, Harm; Marines don't duck. So, while you're there, call Webb and find out who we should go to for our Russian Mafia connection now. Does this mean I don't get any more venus flytraps?"

Flipping past 'A.J., Big—Neighbours,' 'A.J., Little—Babysitters; Doctors; Preschool' and 'Bachelor parties—bondsmen' to the card marked 'Bud—florists,' Harm said "You call Webb, he likes you better. And you changed our lawyer's number, right?"

"Of course, Harm," Mac replied. "And Frank's new number at work."

Meanwhile, Sturgis had been studying the headings under 'Bud—florists.' "Hey, Mac, do I want 'Harriet, Mad,' 'Harriet, Special Occasions,' or 'Other'? And why is there an 'Other'?"

"You want the 'Harriet, Special Occasions' florist, and there is an 'Other' category for offbeat arrangements and mothers-in-law," Mac replied. "Now Harm, please get out of my chair and let me get some work done."

As they were walking out of the office, Sturgis asked Harm "What's up with the venus flytrap?"

"It's a long story."

End Part I.

Any ideas for names in Mac's personal rolodex would be great!


End file.
